Cracked Nuts and Sour Grapes
by CrystallicSky
Summary: ...do not a happy couple make. CHACK, ONESHOT


**Cracked Nuts and Sour Grapes  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, violence, gore, sexual situations/implications, homosexuality, etc.**

**--**

The Xiaolin monks were just sitting around the temple grounds, minding their own business in perfect innocence when Chase Young arrived.

It was a curious occurrence, to be honest: they'd not seen hide nor hair of the Heylin everlord at the past several Showdowns, so it wasn't as if he might have come to win back a Wu he'd lost. To boot, they hadn't had any contact with him _whatsoever_ for _months,_ making it highly unlikely that the four youths had done anything warranting a visit from him.

Of course, they couldn't recall having pissed him off, either, but there the warlord was, towering above them in his superior height and the very look in his eyes betraying his _unholy fury_ with them.

Raimundo took his role as Shoku leader seriously and so stepped forth, his head held high, his shoulders back, and his expression serious. "What are you doing here, Chase?" he spoke authoritatively.

He was the first to be struck and received a hard-fisted punch in the mouth.

The two remaining young men and woman stared with wide eyes and dropped jaws as they heard an audible crack along with the punch, a good handful of teeth flying past the Brazilian's lips.

"What the _hell?!"_ Kimiko shrieked, running to her boyfriend's side as he curled in on himself and clutched at his mouth with various pained noises. "You can't just go around punching people, you jackass!"

This did not, in fact, better the situation in the slightest. Rather, it exacerbated it.

A roundhouse kick caught the Japanese girl square in the shoulder, the force of it easily snapping her collarbone and sending her flying back a good yard or so.

Clay did not take this well: first, his leader is slugged in the mouth for no apparent reason and then, the female member of the team is kicked aside for getting too close? The upstanding Texas-gentleman in him did not very much like _that._

"Hey, now, Young," he began chivalrously, "kickin' a lady is-"

He got no further as Chase's gloved fist slammed mercilessly into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him in one deft motion. The cowboy-monk was given no more than a few seconds to attempt to gather himself when the hand struck again; returning with its twin to catch hold of his head and give a sharp twist.

The 'CRACKSNAPCRUNCH' that accompanied it did not go unnoticed by his ears.

Clay was not dead, merely paralyzed. Likely, it would prove to be a fate _worse_ than death in the years to come.

The only one remaining untouched by the Heylin man's wrath, Omi watched, practically paralyzed, as the Evil aggressor began stalking towards him.

Soon, the small, yellow monk was forced to look directly _up,_ so close the centuries-old beast wearing a human skin had gotten. He swallowed hard, forcing as much calm into his voice as he could. "Chase Young…" he addressed, "why are you doing this?"

The handsome and dangerous man's lip curled back in a sneer, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. "Today," he began, his voice low and gravelly with his anger, "the lot of you brats did the most _moronic_ thing you could've possibly done: you _ruined_ my consort. To return the favor of interfering with a dragonlord's sex-life," he said, _"I_ shall now ruin _you…"_

A foot was brought down _hard_ upon Omi's and the youngest monk screamed as the bones cracked and gave way; shattering in such a manner as to never be able to heal quite right and leave him with a permanent limp.

Chase growled audibly as the boy dropped to the ground in pain. "There," he declared, "now, we are even."

The Heylin overlord was abruptly gone, leaving Omi to survey the damage that'd been done.

His friends were all crippled or severely hurt. He knew he would never walk correctly again and chances were very, very good that a great deal of the martial arts skills he'd learned and those that he'd wanted to learn were now out of his reach. Raimundo would heal from the jaw-break, perhaps have some dental work done to repair his teeth and be fine to fight. Kimiko, with a bit of rehabilitation once her shoulder healed, should be able to engage in combat again, as well, if a bit stiff in some of her movements. Clay was entirely fucked unless medical science advanced itself by thousands of years.

As a team, they were, indeed, ruined.

And why? Omi wondered to himself, standing and approaching his nearest companion while favoring his broken foot. Why had Chase Young done this to them? Because he claimed they had ruined his consort that day? They'd done nothing of the sort! They hadn't even known the everlord had _had_ a consort! Besides, the only thing they'd done that day was participate in a Showdown with Jack Spicer, and…

…

…_OH._

Well…that would…make a good deal of sense, then…

Miles and miles away, in the Land of Nowhere, Chase Young flopped miserably to his bed. Revenge gotten on behalf of his beloved consort, there was really nothing to do but wallow in depression.

His lover was gone! He would never fuck that deliciously tight ass ever again, would never mark up that pretty white skin with bites and scratches, would never see Jack's expression of pure ecstasy and hear him scream the warlord's name in the throes of passion!

"Ohhhh, Spicer…" he moaned piteously into a pillow.

"Holy crap, you're such a big baby," a certain redheaded goth's voice chastised from the door.

The dragonlord glanced up to see Jack standing there, frowning down at him. "Shut up," he demanded. "I'm entitled to being sad."

The genius slowly and carefully approached the bed, his steps stiff and halted, before finally sitting on the edge with a relieved sigh. Golden eyes watched mournfully as a plastic baggie full of ice was settled upon the crotch of the black trousers the youth was wearing. "I checked with my Medbot," the albino announced. "I'll be fine in a couple of days, and we can get back to screwing like coked up rabbits again, like usual."

At the mention of 'days,' Chase moaned and buried his face in the pillow once more. _"Days_ without sex?" his voice inquired, muffled. "This is truly a nightmare…"

"You won't be going cold-turkey," Jack promised, attempting to cheer the older man up. "I'll still blow you and stuff."

"Fellatio is no replacement for copulation, Spicer," the dragonlord growled before mashing his face into the pillow once more. "Leave me," he begged, "I need to be alone with my grief."

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" the goth exclaimed, forcing himself to his feet with a pained wince. _"I'm_ the one who gets kicked in the balls twice for every monk, and here you are moping like _you've_ been castrated! Fine. Be miserable. I'm gonna go get some more fucking ice for my aching dick; these cubes are starting to melt. Coincidentally, _my_ cubes are starting to sting, so I'd better hurry. Have fun with your Sad Pity Party."

Chase didn't even protest as his consort limped from the room to fetch more frozen water and clung to his pillow. Alone now, he allowed a whimper to escape his lips at the prospect of whole _days_ without being able to fuck his own consort and decided that yes, the punishment he'd given the Xiaolin for what they'd done was perfectly _fair._

--

**A/N: ...don't ask. XD  
**


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